


Turn Tail

by junkster



Category: Take That
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-30
Updated: 2011-04-30
Packaged: 2017-10-18 20:11:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junkster/pseuds/junkster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Experience had long ago taught Jason to get up, get out and find somewhere to freak out on his own. Howard preferred to keep an eye on the situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn Tail

Jason was being quiet. Not that it was unusual for him to get lost inside his own head, but he’d been absolutely silent for several hours. He was sat next to Howard on the bus, playing distractedly with a snapped guitar string he’d found in one of his pockets, the coarse wire wrapped and spiralled around his fingers. Someone further down the aisle shrieked with laughter and he failed to react, his attention fixed entirely on his hands. He took hold of one end of the string and yanked, the loops tightening roughly and briefly around his skin until he released it again. It unfurled rapidly to reveal a pattern of grooves around his wrist and palm and fingers.

Howard reached out and engulfed Jason's hand in one of his own, long fingers curling around to keep it still. Jason looked up at him with dark eyes, a faint flicker suggesting that he was surprised to even see someone sat there.

"There must be something else to do besides mild self-harm?" Howard asked softly, blue eyes piercing. "You haven't said a word for hours. What's wrong?"

Jason's eyes dropped back down to their hands before flicking back up to glance at him, flighty and closed off. "Nothing," he assured, the pad of one finger brushing over the rough wire, now curled on his lap. "I'm just..." he thought for a moment, before deciding on: "Tired." He smiled ruefully. "Must be feeling my age, eh?"

Howard frowned and he turned Jason's hand over, running a thumb across his palm. "You sure that’s all?"

Eyeing him with a frown of his own, Jason leaned back slowly in his seat, pulling his hand out of Howard's grip and folding his arms, putting a barrier between them.

"I'm sure," he said, and down came the shutters and out came the Jason who knew how to end a conversation dead in its tracks. The Jason who managed to be so quiet and yet so fucking intimidating, when he wanted to be. The product of being the quietest in a group of loud people, presumably, and Howard knew from experience when to stop prodding that particular nest of hornets.

 

\+ + + + +

 

They split up into pairs on arrival at the venue, separate interviews to do and DVD extras to film with the camera crew. Gary walked side by side with Howard as they made their way through the grey, concrete corridors to check out the stage, where the crew were already most of the way through setting up the extravagant lighting and screens.

"Not bad," Gary mused, turning in a full circle as he surveyed the huge space. "Not the biggest we've had this tour, but it's not bad."

Howard watched him with an affectionate smirk. "Size isn't everything, Gaz."

Gary laughed. "Easy for you to say, mate."

"Just keep telling yourself, it's what you do with it that matters," Howard assured him, giving him a consolatory pat on the shoulder before laughing and ducking a well-aimed cuff at his head.

 

\+ + + + +

 

"Christ," Mark muttered to himself as the fourth interviewer left the dressing room, then he leaned over in his chair to nudge against Jason's side. "How many more have we got to do? They've all asked exactly the same questions! We could've done all four at once and been done in ten minutes!"

Jason nodded vaguely, his eyes darting after the interviewer to the open door. "Only a few more, I think, after soundcheck."

"Right, okay," Mark nodded, rubbing a hand across his eyes tiredly before shooting him a pensive glance. "Are you alright, mate? You seem a bit tense today."

Looking down at where his hands were gripping the edges of his chair with white knuckle intensity, Jason quickly pulled them away and got to his feet, his eyes flicking from Mark to the door. "Yeah, I'm just tired, that's all. Look, I'm just gonna go and..." he gestured towards the door. Mark looked at him blankly, and he expounded: "Get a quick breather. I'll be back for the next round, okay?"

He was gone and out into the corridor before Mark could even form a reply, glancing warily behind him to make sure he was alone.

He could feel it coming, like it'd been coming for the last day and a half, his skull pounding and closing in on him. Experience had long ago taught him to get up, get out, and find somewhere to freak out on his own.

'Breathe', he admonished himself as he walked quickly away from the dressing room and towards the fire escape doors that he'd clocked earlier, a couple of corridors down.

'Breathe. Breathe.'

He nearly put his thumb through the cuff of his jumper as he flexed his hands, his body tensing at the familiar sensation of his heart trying to hurl itself against his ribcage. He opened his mouth as he walked, forcing himself to drag the breaths in, and out, and in, and out.

Sweat prickled across his forehead and ice flowed down his spine, the disturbing combination making his every gasp a shaky one.

"Shit, shit, shit," he swore, mantra-like, lifting one of his hands to swipe at his hair and catching sight of the frantic tremble in his fingers. His stomach back-flipped and he stopped dead as he turned the corner, pressing that hand flat against the wall as the world tilted around him. He swayed, blinking against the grey that crept into his vision, then shook his head and pushed himself back upright, determined to reach the door at the end of the corridor.

Several steps later, the tilt became a full on spin and he reached out desperately, his heart beat a suffocating lump in his throat. His fingers met with air and he felt himself stumbling, but instead of falling he suddenly found himself pressed against a solid body, his forehead held against the broad shoulder in front of him as the momentary fear retreated infinitesimally.

"Howard," he breathed gratefully against cotton covered muscle, closing his eyes tightly as familiar arms wound around him supportively.

"Nearly took a dive there, mate," Howard remarked softly, thumb stroking the back of his neck. "Give a bloke some warning, eh?"

Jason swallowed. "Maybe next time."

"No 'next time', Jay, you need to lie down. You're about to pass out."

"No," Jason uttered, shaking his head and trying in vain to extricate himself from Howard's strong grip. "No, I need to get out..."

"Where to?"

His struggles only made Howard hold on even tighter, and Jason let out a quiet, distraught sound, his knees giving way under him finally. The sudden change in his weight placement must have surprised Howard enough as they both ended up on the floor, Howard with his back to the wall and Jason curled against his chest, one of his hands gripping the front of Howard's jumper tightly.

As he closed his eyes tightly and tried not to make any of the incriminating whimpering sounds that threatened to escape, he distantly considered how much he hated his body sometimes. The shaking and the racing of his heart and the burn in his lungs, as though he was drowning in his own irrational, pitiful fear. The involuntary muscle spasms and the light-headedness and the way his eyes prickled when Howard stroked his hair, as he always did.

"S'alright, Jay," he heard from above, the very voice of calm. "I've got yer."

That lump in his throat tried to choke him.

Folding his arms so that they were tucked between their bodies, he pressed in closer and tried not to think about how vulnerable he probably looked, like he was trying to burrow into Howard's chest.

"Sorry," he grated, and Howard's grip on the back of his neck tightened.

"Don't."

Howard had first witnessed one of Jason's panic attacks a mere month or two after Nigel had brought them together, just before going onstage at some small dive bar in London. Back then it had been an ugly mix of panic and stage fright, and Howard had found him in the grim alleyway outside, one hand on the wall as he threw up in the gutter. With his eyes firmly off the ground, Howard had stood with him and rubbed his back tentatively, reaching for one of his hands and biting his lip at the strength of Jason's death grip.

And that was the strange thing about it, for him - the fact that Jason was so strong, but could be reduced to a shaking, trembling wreck by his own debilitating thoughts.

The crowd had started booing before they even got onstage. Nigel had blamed Jason for making them late, but the majority of the warning lecture had gone straight over Jay's head, in the midst of his post-panic daze.

The rest of them had just put it down as one more example of London being a shit hole.

 

\+ + + + +

 

Footsteps sounded in the corridor nearby and Howard lifted his head to watch and wait as they came closer, fully aware of just how much Jason hated other people seeing him in his current state. Glancing down, he freed one hand to gently turn Jason's head slightly more to the side, hiding his face from the oncoming intruder.

The footsteps stopped and when Howard raised his head again there was a member of the stage crew standing at the other end of the corridor, a clipboard in one hand and a coffee in the other. Howard's heart sank when he realised it wasn't Skippy but one of the temporary fill-ins, whose path he hadn't really crossed yet and whose name escaped him.

Eyes roving over the two of them in surprise, the guy (depressingly young, in Howard's opinion) cleared his throat slightly and glanced briefly at his clipboard.

"Uh," he began, unconvincingly. Howard raised an eyebrow in question and he swiftly continued: "Skippy sent me to find you. We needed you for soundcheck. About twenty minutes ago."

Something in his tone immediately rubbed Howard the wrong way, and he tilted his head, locking his gaze.

 

\+ + + + +

 

Nick Bridges realised he'd made a mistake as soon as he felt the heavy weight of Howard Donald's stare settle on him. Gripping his clipboard a little tighter, he mentally berated himself for being worried by someone who was just, after all, a member of a boyband. A manband, even.

Skippy had advised him that, if he stumbled across a situation that looked in any way delicate, he should report back rather than try to wade in, but as far as Nick was concerned that was no way to deal with things. He wanted to keep this job, and pussy-footing around divas was no way to earn anyone's respect.

Clearing his throat again, he took a few steps closer. "Skippy asked me to fetch you," he said. "Not to come back without you."

"You'll have to disappoint him then, won't you?"

"Isn't this," he waved a hand vaguely at their rather compromising position, "something you can do down by the stage?"

He regretted that sentence almost as soon as it was out, as Howard's expression turned to thunder. His eyes, big and startling blue at the best of times, burned with an intensity and a ferocity that stopped Nick dead in his tracks.

"Um..." he said, holding his clipboard in front of his chest.

Infuriatingly, Howard just rolled his eyes, apparently deciding him to be an irritation rather than a threat. "Just back off and give us five minutes, yeah?" he asked, a hand rubbing the other one's back.

Nick didn't move, angry and frustrated at the dismissal. He opened his mouth to retort, and Howard lifted his head again, eyes narrowing in an altogether intimidating way.

"Back off," he repeated quietly, and that time it was definitely a warning.

He looked as though he might be pushed to stand up at any second, and Nick was well aware that he probably shouldn't stick around for that, being a modest five foot six compared to the ridiculous six footer. Scowling, he crushed the empty coffee cup in his left hand and turned to go.

"Fine," he shot back over his shoulder. "I'll let Skippy know."

 

\+ + + + +

 

"Fuck's sake," Howard muttered as he watched the guy disappear, his anger leaving him as quickly as it had been roused.

He felt the tell-tale fidget in his arms just before a hand pressed flat against his chest and Jason was sitting up and pulling away from him, revealing eyes that were huge and lost.

"Got to..." Jason began, turning his head to look down the corridor at the double fire door.

And then he was off, scrambling backwards out of Howard's arms and uncurling gracefully as he stood, heading for those doors at a half-walk, half-run.

Howard slumped back against the wall and sighed, watching him go and finding himself alone suddenly.

 

\+ + + + +

 

Jason stood out on the fire escape and dragged in deep breaths, hands gripping the iron railing tightly. His mouth was dry, his heart thundering against his ribs as he swallowed convulsively. The peeling black paint on the railings clung to his clammy palms, and he ran a thumb along the edge to feel the sharp shards dig into his skin. He wasn't far up, only two stories, but the feeling of being outside and in some kind of open space settled him somewhat, the bitter breeze cooling the sheen of sweat that had broken out across his forehead. A few, small flakes of snow had begun to come down, carried quickly along in the wind. Lowering his head, he closed his eyes and listened to the distant sound of the traffic on the road nearby and tried to ignore the stale smell of cigarettes. The butts scattered the ground below, where they'd fallen through the grid of metal beneath his feet.

The unnatural heat that had raced through him, making his stomach churn, turned to ice just as quickly. Shivers coursed uncontrollably up and down his spine, and the snowflakes began to settle without melting on the backs of his stone cold hands.

He wanted desperately to scream at the sky - to release the knot in his insides - but the tightness in his throat and the threatening prickle of tears in his eyes told him he was already too close to the deep end. A move like that and he might not come back.

Opening his eyes, he gazed despondently down at the pair of Christmas trees that stood, sentry-like, at the front gates of the car park. Their simple, old-fashioned, coloured lights beamed merrily back up at him, and he narrowed his eyes slightly to make them blur; to make them halo and fill his world, however briefly, with something beautiful. He thought of the tree that had been set up in the dressing room, its harsh LED lights flashing quickly enough to make him feel dizzy. He'd commented jokingly that they should have had a strobe warning on the door, and one of the costume girls had laughed at him for being 'a grumpy old man'. Howard had just patted him sympathetically on the back and followed the wire until he found the control box, changing the setting, blissfully, to 'stationary'.

Protective, as ever.

Jason wanted to cringe when he realised what they must have looked like to that stage lad, Nick. What he must have looked like, curled up like some foetal madman. Not to mention the fact that he'd probably have it in for Howard for the rest of the tour, having been so thoroughly dismissed. Howard was a gentle giant most of the time - too laid back to have any kind of violent streak - but Jason knew what those blue eyes could be like, when you were the sole recipient of a death glare. Of any kind of emotion, really. He'd never met anyone else with such expressive eyes.

He sighed as the door behind him clunked open, and dimly hoped that they weren't unwittingly setting off some kind of security alarm in the depths of the building. A hand settled on his shoulder and he closed his eyes again, feeling the long fingers settle familiarly around the bones and muscle, and then a scarf appeared around his neck, still warm as Howard wound it carefully around his throat.

"You alright, Jay?" Howard murmured, quiet concern radiating from every word. "You must be freezing out here."

Jason felt goosebumps prickle along his arms, a reaction from the contrasting warmth of the scarf. "I was too hot. You know how it is."

"What happened?" Howard asked, pressing a hand between Jason's hunched shoulder blades. "Haven't seen you like this for a long time."

Jason shook his head helplessly. "I don't know. It just hit me, hard. I've felt...wrong...since yesterday, really."

"There's nothing to be worried about, you know that. It's the same set up as ever, same sort of audience. You were perfect the other night."

"I just feel terrified to go out there."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I'm scared of fucking up, I suppose. As usual."

"You never fuck up, Jay. And even if you did, people like it. Means they get something a bit different; a bit of improv."

"I know. Sorry, mate, I'm just..."

"Need some dutch courage?"

Jason smiled grimly as he settled his gaze back on the cheerful Christmas trees. "Think that might be a slippery slope I really shouldn't go down."

"What about a hug, then?" Howard asked, one of his hands resting lightly on Jason's hip.

Jason turned his head to look at him with fond desperation. "It can't hurt," he reasoned, shrugging helplessly, and pushed back from the railings to stand up straight.

Howard took a moment to look at him in appraisal, then he opened his arms and let Jason come forwards, before wrapping him up tightly. That sensation of being surrounded put Jason on autopilot, and he slid his arms around Howard's waist, pushing his hands up under Howard's jumper and pressing them flat against the heat of his back.

"Jesus," Howard exclaimed quietly, a shudder running down his spine. "Gary's gonna kill me if you get pneumonia. Or I get pneumonia, even worse."

Jason smiled against Howard's shoulder and looked down his back, at the snowflakes that settled against the soft green wool.

"You're shaking," Howard observed, a distressed tone to his voice. "Are you sure this is just the usual? You're not coming down with something as well?"

Closing his eyes, Jason ran one of his hands further up Howard's spine, feeling every notch of vertebrae through his shirt. "It's just the usual," he assured quietly. "Just pathetic panic."

"Not sure 'just' is the right word, mate."

"How long have we got?"

"Ages. At least two hours 'til the show."

"How long have I got with you?"

"The same. As long as it takes. Why did you head for here, anyway? The toilets used to be your hiding place of choice."

"Only 'cause I used to throw up."

"You're not going to throw up on me now, are you?"

Jason smiled faintly. "No, you're safe. I just felt claustrophobic inside. Needed some air."

"You should've let me know, on the bus, last night. I should've guessed. You knew this was coming, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Jason answered softly. "Sorry. I was being a twat. I just...I still find it embarrassing, even with you."

Howard was silent for a moment, his hands rubbing circles across Jason's back. Stood there on that fire escape, just the two of them, Jason could have believed that there was no one else in the world, and that no one wanted anything from him. With Howard, he could always be himself, no matter how broken that was.

"Nothing shameful about a reaction you can't control, Jay," Howard said finally, finding the right thing to say as he so often did when it really mattered.

Jason held on for a second longer before pulling back slightly to make amused eye contact, just far enough that Howard could still keep hold of his arms. "I always forget how good you are at this stuff."

"Don't tell the others, eh? Or else I'll be dealing with Marky alone for the next year, and god knows what hidden angst Gaz's got."

Grinning wryly, Jason looked down as Howard pressed a hand flat against his chest. He was only wearing a shirt, and Howard's touch burned through the cotton against his icy skin. He could feel his heart slowing even more under that solid palm, beginning to regulate itself with Howard's, and the awful tight ache that had inhabited his chest for the last thirty-six hours was unclenching and easing.

He closed his eyes for a moment and simply listened to the muffled hush of the snow, and re-fuelled on the love that was being directed at him on full beam. Yet another thing that Howard did well. He didn't like showing emotion, particularly, but when he did show it he tended to really go for it.

"Don't panic, Jay," Howard asked of him, pressing a brief kiss to his temple. "You know I'll keep an eye out for you."

Barely trusting his voice, Jason swallowed past that ever-present lump in his throat and pulled Howard back into a hug, already missing the supportive protection his arms offered.

"Yeah," he said softly. "You always have."


End file.
